Valentine's Day is for Suckers
by smrt1
Summary: Woody goes shopping for a gift for Jordan. A hyperactive Seely is dragged along.


**VALENTINE'S DAY IS FOR SUCKERS**

* * *

"So..." Matt made sure to drag the word out as long as possible to do without his companion punching him. "Why am I here again?" He punctuated the question by sending the sunglasses rack he was standing next to spinning.

Woody, standing on the other side of the rack and leaning over to stare into the jewelry case, reached out and stopped it with one hand. "What is with your grudge against sunglasses, anyway?" he muttered. "And you know what? I don't know _why_ you're here. It's not like you're ever any help or anything."

Matt pointedly ignored Woody; he was in a mood for complaining, not for conversation. It was, after all, nearly midnight, Woody had somehow seen fit to drag him into a 24-hour Super Wal-Mart, and right before they had left work Matt had downed about ten cookies from a batch someone had brought in, so he was getting _really_ nauseous. He wondered if Woody would mind being thrown-up upon.

He then wondered which was more amusing to his sugar-addled mind: 'Woody would', or 'up upon'.

But all he said out loud was, "Why the hell are you getting Jordan Cavanaugh a Valentine's Day present, anyway?" He paused in order to spin the sunglasses around again. "And even if you insist on getting her one, why are you shopping at _Wal-Mart_?" Another pause. "And why did you bring _me_?"

He started to spin the rack back and forth between his two hands, head following one particularly garish pair of neon pink frames. Which nearly flew off and at him when Woody grabbed one of the sides and refused to let go.

"I am going to put handcuffs on you if you don't knock that off," Woody snapped, glowering at him.

"Oooh, kinky, Hoyt. Didn't know you had it in you." Matt smirked. "And you still didn't answer my question. I mean, you already slept with her, what's the point of buying her a present?"

Woody stared at him incredulously. "You are such an idiot. See, _that_ is why the thing with you and Lily didn't work out."

"No..." Matt said, again drawing the word out as long as it would stretch without incurring serious bodily harm. "The reason the 'thing' with me and Lily didn't work out was because I decided it wasn't worth it to keep following her around like a concussed puppy."

"I thought the term was lovesick puppy."

"Concussed, lovesick, there's a difference?"

Woody rolled his eyes. "Whatever. So _you_ gave up on _her_. Right, Matty. And I'm sure you're going to tell me that you don't mind her dating that geek from the D.A.'s office – and, by default, choosing him over you."

"It's true! She's way too high-maintenance. Not to mention that if I so much as disagree with her, I'm 'insensitive'." Matt snorted at the very idea, missing Woody's own snort (which was for an entirely different reason than Matt's). "I like my women difficult, but not _that_ difficult. And so I wish Brandau luck with her." Because God knew, if _he_ didn't chain her down, she'd eventually entice every heterosexual unmarried man in the Boston Police Department and/or morgue and/or 7-Elevens, since the poor sods wouldn't know any better. "Also, I think the word you meant to use was inference, not default."

Woody just gave him a blank look before shaking his head and turning to look at the jewelry again – this time not letting go of the sunglasses rack, Matt noticed with disappointment.

A few more minutes of waiting around, and Matt got bored again. At this point, the sugar rush from the cookies was balancing out the nausea, and a bored, hyperactive Matt Seely was nobody's friend. "Just get some glitter glue and make her a card by hand! Chicks love that sort of crap," he whined, actually bouncing from foot to foot like a three year old. Well, an extremely well-balanced three year old. Maybe a five year old, just to be on the safe side.

Woody, looking like he was about to kick him, sighed. "Haven't you ever had a girlfriend during Valentine's Day? You know, one that dumped your stupid ass when you handed her a glitter-glue card?"

"Nope. They usually dumped me after receiving absolutely nothing for V-Day. I don't believe in wasting my hard-earned income to such entirely capitalistic ventures unless I get a portion of the proceeds." Woody stared at him. "What? I went to a prep school," Matt said, as if that explained everything. Which it probably did.

"Look, I just want Jordan to give me a chance, that's all," Woody said, trying to concentrate on the display before realizing he'd been staring at the same section for the better part of ten minutes without seeing anything worthwhile, so he moved over a few feet to stare at more cheap sterling silver rings set with cubic zirconium ovals.

"You already _have_ a chance with her, you idiot. Remember her inviting you in, and you being all 'no, no, I don't want to be your rebound guy', even though you were already the other man before she dumped the reporter? Ringing any bells? It does for me, 'cause you whined about it for a full week." Seely shook his head in mock despair. "I swear the two of you are going to keep up this ridiculous dance until... until..." Matt paused. "I can't even think of a length that's appropriate, that's how long!"

Woody jutted his chin out stubbornly. "Well, I _don't_ want to be the rebound guy. I want a _real_ relationship with her."

"Then maybe you should've dated her when she was six, before she ever got another boyfriend, because you're just going to be using her breaking up with one for an excuse until one of you kicks the bucket."

"You're all heart, you know that, Seely?" Woody said dryly, and then quickly held up a hand before Matt could respond. "I'm ignoring you now. Unless you want to spend all night in a Super Wal-Mart, you should let me find a present for Jordan, okay?"

"Okay," Matt said, with a minimal amount of sarcasm and whining. He then actually waited patiently for a few minutes – certainly a first for him. Then, of course, he got bored. And then he started humming under his breath, and that soon turned into singing under his breath. "Captain America, we love you. Captain America, you're grand. Oh, Spiro Agnew eat your heart out, Captain America's our man..." It was at that point he noticed Woody was staring at him again. "What?" He gestured towards the watches stand (sadly, not spin-equipped) where, sitting right in the middle and taking up an entire row on the display, was a large red, white, and blue children's watch with a plastic Captain America grinning up from the face. "It's not like I just pulled that out of my mind without prompting."

"Yeah, but you _did_ know the lyrics to a Jimmy Buffett song off the top of your head."

Matt smirked. "And _you_ knew it was a Jimmy Buffett song, so you're not one to talk."

"Look, Matt. Go to the toys section and bug mothers shopping for their kids' birthday parties, all right? I'll find you when I'm done here."

"For the record, I resent being treated like a child," Matt said, before waving vaguely and heading to the back of the massive store. He heard Woody snort behind him and stuck out his tongue. Of course, he didn't bother turning around to face Woody when he stuck out his tongue, so he wound up insulting a sleep deprived college student who shifted her armload of coffee beans (the chocolate-covered kind, he noted) to give Matt the bird. Quite unbecoming of a lady, he thought.

Some time later – it could have been five minutes, could have been an hour, Matt had no idea. Someone had left out one of those annoying little trick bikes and Matt was having a great time speeding through the toy isles on it while bouncing a miniature basketball (thankfully, Wal-Marts seemed to be understaffed at the witching hour, so no one had come over to complain, ask him to stop, or throw him out of the store bodily like that one time at Toys "R" Us, or that other time at Blockbuster). But later than it had been before, in any case, Woody appeared at the end of the Lego row and Matt had to brake hard to keep from running directly into him. Stupid overgrown Wisconsin boy. He also nearly fell over, but managed to keep his balance just in time. (He'd once known a kid named Justin Time, but that was another story. And not a very interesting one, either.)

He quickly sprang up off of the bike and pretended that the action didn't make him want to collapse – those stupid trick bikes were apparently built for four year olds. He covered by brushing imaginary dust off of the sleeves of his fleece jacket. "So, Hoyt. You finally found something for your special lady friend?" Matt asked in his most bored, nonchalant voice.

"Yes, Matt. And yes, we can go now," Woody said, smirking at Matt's awkward strides. "What's with you, anyway? I mean, you're usually pretty annoying, but tonight you outperformed yourself."

"I had cookies." Matt said simply. "What did you get for Cavanaugh, anyway?"

"None of your business," Woody said, snapping the small bag from the jewelry counter away from anything resembling Matt's grasp.

"Come on, come on, I gotta know!" Matt said, trying to grab it away from his friend. Then he thought for a moment and paused. "Oh, wait, never mind. I got myself confused with someone who cared." He started walking out of the Super Wal-Mart, head held high as if he hadn't just been acting like an annoying hyperactive three year old. "Come on, Hoyt. I need to get some sleep before dealing with all the wacko shit that happens on Valentine's Day. He paused at a unit of shelves near the registers. "Hey, do you think Detective Simmons would like some Sweethearts?"

* * *

**THINGS I DON'T OWN**: Woody. Matt. Jordan. Lily. Brandau. Detective Simmons. 'That reporter guy'. Super Wal-Mart. Toys "R" Us. Blockbuster. Sweethearts. Cookies. BMX bikes ('those stupid little trick bikes'). Captain America. Captain America watches. Garish pink sunglasses. Legos. Jimmy Buffett's song "Captain America". Valentine's Day. Sleep deprived college students. Chocolate-covered coffee beans. Fleece jackets. The Boston PD. Handcuffs. Pretty much everything else in this fic.

This has been a Valentine's Day fic. Please return to your regularly scheduled fanficcing.


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